Let it Shine
by beeftony
Summary: Anne Possible learns the hard way what it means to let your children make their own mistakes. Prequel to The Gift.


"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine…."

Singing in the car was usually Kimmie's least favorite part of trips, Anne considered as she turned into the parking lot. It didn't matter if there was absolutely nothing else to do on a long camping trip; the girl would rather stare lazily out the window than interact with her family. In her daughter's defense, she was only eight years old, and still hadn't learned everything about considering others' feelings. It would only get worse when she became a teenager, Anne predicted.

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine…."

Still, she didn't question the girl's sudden enthusiasm. Today was a big day for her; she was excited. It also helped that James hadn't come along. He didn't have the best singing voice.

"Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…."

"We're here," Anne announced as she pulled into a spot. Kim abruptly stopped her singing in favor of tugging on the door handle until Anne released the child locks. The girl launched herself from the mini-van like a cannonball, running excitedly toward a young blond boy whom she had spotted on the way in, despite being almost totally engrossed in her singing.

"Ron! Ron!" she squealed, nearly tackling the boy with a hug. They would have fallen over had his mother not been there to catch them both. "How are you?"

"Doin' fine, KP," he wheezed from within her death grip. "But could you let go a little?"

She did. "Oh, sorry! Forgot how weak you were!"

"I'm _not_ weak!" he protested. "You're just too strong!"

Kim smirked. "We'll see today, won't we?"

"Alright, kids, that's enough," Anne said when she finally caught up. She looked to Ron's mother and smiled. "Hello, Rachel."

She smiled back. "Hello, Anne. Didn't bring your husband either?"

The brain surgeon laughed. "He still won't let Kimmie play outside the house unless he's watching," she answered. "I was barely able to talk him into letting her take part in this."

"Elliot doesn't mind what Ronnie does, as long as he doesn't interrupt his work," said Rachel. "His study is like a sanctuary to him."

"What does your husband do again? I keep forgetting."

"He's an actuary. I didn't even know what that word meant until I met him."

"What _does_ it mean?" Ron asked suddenly.

Rachel shrugged. "I forget."

Their conversation was halted by a black Mercedes that pulled into the parking lot. They all turned to look.

"Uh oh…." Anne started.

"…here comes trouble," finished Rachel.

The four of them watched as the sleek, expensive car entered a parking space, stopping just centimeters before the curb. The front license plate was emblazoned: "BON 80N."

It was a woman who exited, then opened the back door for her passenger. A small girl, hair as brown as her mother's, got out next. Both proceeded to walk towards the group with their chins held high.

"Hello, Priscilla," Rachel greeted without joy. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Richard signed her up for the class," the woman replied. "He has a board meeting today, so I'm stuck dragging little Bon-Bon to this disgusting place."

"What's so disgusting about it?" Ron whispered to Kim. "Are there dead bodies in the meat freezer or something?"

"The _what_?" she whispered back. "Ron, we're not even _near_ a butcher's shop."

"Oh. Well then what's she talking about?"

"She _means_ it's too lower class," said Bonnie as she joined them. "And I can't say I blame her. We _are_ in a strip mall."

"A what?"

"A strip mall. Don't worry; it confused me too at first. I thought we were going to one of those places my daddy always hangs out at."

By this time the three mothers had caught wind of the conversation, and Priscilla grabbed Bonnie by the shoulders just shy of violently. "Bon-Bon! What did I tell you about saying those kinds of things about your father?"

"That no one needs to know?"

"Exactly. Your father stays out late sometimes because he's hard at work. Nothing else."

Hidden from her mother's view, Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Yes, mommy."

Before the conversation could continue, the door of the building swung open and a man stepped out, smiling generously.

"Hello, hello!" he greeted in an accent that Anne could only describe as 'overly Asian.' "Welcome to parents' day at the Rising Dragon Kung Fu Academy for Little Warriors! Your children very eager to show you everything they learn over last few weeks! My name Paul!"

"Yes, we've met before," Anne replied, stepping forward to shake the man's hand. "When I signed Kimmie up for the class. She's always very excited to come here."

"And she should be! Rising Dragon is best martial arts academy in Middleton!"

"You mean 'only,'" she heard Priscilla mutter behind her.

Paul didn't seem to hear the comment, instead gesturing for everyone to come inside. By this time more parents and their children had gathered, and they all followed wordlessly. "Remember," he said, still talking to Anne, "if you pay for next year in advance, your child goes up whole other belt!"

"Thank you, but I think Kimmie would prefer to advance the old-fashioned way." That was the other reason she never brought James along. This man treated martial arts like used cars. But like Priscilla had mentioned, he was the only instructor available. She wondered how many times he'd had to apply to get his license.

She looked around. She'd been in here only a few times, usually just stepping in the front door after walking Kimmie from the car. The only other time that she had actually interacted with the eccentric instructor had been when she enrolled her daughter in the class. Chinese characters were scattered about like confetti, along with various inspirational posters. Padding covered the walls, and several mats lay in the center of the room. Around them, cheap carpeting barely cushioned their footsteps against the hard concrete foundation.

Anne couldn't help feeling like all the decoration was purely for show. The haphazard manner in which the posters and banners were arranged suggested that Paul knew almost nothing about what any of them actually meant, and was just putting them there to cover space. There was a very aloof, unprofessional aura about the man that suggested he knew very little about what he was supposed to be teaching.

But maybe she was being too quick to judge. Perhaps he was merely eccentric. Even with no competition, the man obviously had to try very hard to bring in business. He'd sold out, but that wasn't necessarily proof that he didn't know what he was talking about. She decided to postpone her judgment until she saw the students in action. Results often spoke louder than methods.

"Alright, children!" Paul began when he had reached the opposite side of the mats. "Take off your shoes and form circle around ring! Parents, please enjoy our complementary seating." He gestured to a few cheap metal chairs whose numbers did not even come close to providing for all of them.

Priscilla, being entitled, took the first seat. Anne and Rachel decided to yield the remaining seats to the rest of the parents, and sat on the floor instead. The parents who had not gotten a chair sat next to them.

Once everyone had settled, Paul spoke again: "Alright, ladies and gentlemen! We going to have sparring tournament! Best way to show off skills!"

While most of the parents didn't seem to mind that announcement, Anne decided to speak up. "Excuse me, Paul?"

"Yes?"

"I've never taken a martial arts class, so pardon me if there's something I don't know, but isn't sparring for the more advanced students?"

At first, Paul looked genuinely surprised that anybody would question his methods. Then he laughed and waved it off. "They advanced enough! Kids get in fight all the time at school! Besides, they get taught by yours truly!"

'_That's what I'm afraid of_,' she wanted to reply, but kept it to herself. "Alright then. If you don't think they'll get hurt, I trust you, Paul."

He nodded, then turned back to the kids. "First up, Kim Possible versus Walter Nelson. Take your positions."

The uneasy feeling that Anne had been experiencing this whole time was growing stronger. Kimmie and Walter hadn't spoken since "the incident," in which they were briefly attached by the lips. Neither of them seemed to have forgotten it.

Kim was grinning, her eyebrows angled down so that her whole expression turned malicious. Walter was the exact opposite, sweating and biting his fingernails. He managed to find enough composure to bow with one palm covering a fist, which Kim returned. Then they fought.

Or rather, Kim fought. Walter just stood there and took a beating. He doubled over when the girl sucker-punched him in the stomach, which she immediately followed up with a knee to the face. He fell over backwards and lay on the floor, moaning. Anne could tell that he was holding back tears.

Mr. Nelson rushed into the ring to grab his son, but did not speak a word of protest. He was trying to save face, she realized. Removing his son from the class would only make him seem weak, from his point of view. Anne would have already been out the door by this point. If Kimmie kept fighting like that, however, she might just have to take her from the class anyway.

"Next up, Bonnie Rockwaller!"

The brunette rose, striding calmly into the ring. She placed a fist in her open palm and bowed, and Kim returned the gesture like she had with Walter. This time, however, the competition was more even.

Kim attacked first, rushing headlong at the other girl with her fist raised high. Bonnie pinned her legs flush against each other, with only her toes touching the ground. Raising her arms above her head, she skillfully pirouetted out of the way. The other girl skid to a halt, turned around and swung at Bonnie's head.

Bonnie ducked, her strong legs propelling her into a spinning uppercut that connected with the little redhead's jaw. Kim stumbled back, but did not fall.

Pressing her advantage, Bonnie charged forward just as Kim had at the beginning of the fight, fist held high above her head. She struck downward towards Kim, but the girl swatted it to the side, countering with a fist of her own.

The punch connected with Bonnie's midsection and she cried out, but did not double over as Walter had. Instead she grabbed onto Kim's wrist where their arms were still connected and kicked the inside of one of her knees at the same time. She wasn't strong enough to support Kim's weight when the other girl lost her balance, however, and they both went crashing to the floor.

Kim recovered first, striking Bonnie's left cheek with her fist. She rolled over and straddled the brunette, right arm drawn back for another punch.

"Alright, that's ENOUGH!"

The shout came from Priscilla, who stood up and marched into the ring, seizing Kim by the collar and shoving her to the side. She grabbed Bonnie just as roughly and yanked the girl to her feet. "That is _not _the way my daughter behaves! If you were _anything_ like your father you would have _won_ by now!" Dragging her daughter by the arm, she grabbed her purse and started heading towards the door. "This way, Bon-Bon. You're learning ballet like the rest of the girls your age."

Bonnie said nothing, and simply followed her mother out. She did spare one last look back at Kim, however, and winked.

"Mrs. Rockwaller, please!" Paul shouted, heading after them. "I'll give you a discount on next year's payment! I'll move Bonnie all the way up to black belt! I'll give you anything you want! Just stay! Please!"

She didn't answer, and slammed the door in his face.

Paul sighed. "Oh well," he said, recovering instantly. "Ron Stoppable, step into ring!"

It was the return of his ridiculous accent that made Anne notice how it had instantly vanished when he was begging Priscilla to stay. Her suspicion that he was just putting on an act to seem more genuine was confirmed. She doubted that he realized just how much that plan was backfiring.

By the time Paul had resumed his position, Kim and Ron were already bowing to each other. They stood there for only a moment before Kim attacked, aiming at his face with a right hook.

Ron screamed and fell to the floor before the fist even connected, rolling several feet to the left. When he got up, Kim had already adjusted her direction and was charging at him again. He started to run. She chased him all around the ring, shaking her fist.

After a couple of laps around the ring, Ron tripped and fell to the floor. Kim was going too fast to stop, and stumbled over his prone figure before crashing down herself.

As they got up slowly, Anne replayed the moment in her head. She doubted that Ron had planned to trip Kim, but he'd knocked her to the floor without ever throwing a punch. He was going to great lengths to avoid engaging her, but in his own way, he was managing to hold his own. She didn't know much about martial arts, but she had heard that when facing a stronger opponent, the best tactic was to use that person's strength against them. He just needed to learn how to counter instead of running all the time and landing a hit by accident.

She paused. Why was she trying to figure out a way for Ron to defeat her daughter? When had she stopped rooting for Kim? She looked over at Walter Nelson, shaking in his father's arms, and remembered.

The moment passed, and the two children were on their feet again. Kim lashed out with a kick, and Ron leapt to the side to avoid it. She used the momentum from her kick to spin around, switching feet and kicking at him again. This time it connected, and Ron stumbled back, pin-wheeling his arms to avoid falling. He fell anyway.

Kim strode calmly over, raising one leg to kick him again. Anne closed her eyes.

Then she heard Kim shout.

When she looked again, her daughter was on the floor. Ron's leg was extended, having knocked her off balance. It was the first blow he had thrown in the entire fight, and it had landed brilliantly.

"Not fair!" Kim shrieked, rising to her feet again. Ron did the same, now smirking.

"Told you I wasn't weak."

She growled, punching at him again. He tipped his head to one side, then the other when Kim struck at him with her other fist. He ducked under the roundhouse that followed, then somersaulted to the side, away from another kick. He moved quickly behind her, placing both hands on her back and shoving her to the ground.

As she keeled forward, Kim aimed another kick at Ron. It connected with his thigh, but he did not drop. Pushing herself up, she turned around and swung at him again.

This time he did not dodge, instead raising his left arm to parry the blow. His right leg came up quickly and struck her in the side. Kim opened her mouth in a silent scream, almost doubling over as she had made Walter do. When Ron's fist connected with her stomach, she bent over the rest of the way.

Ron wasn't nearly as cruel as she had been, backing off and allowing her to regain her breath. After several heaving gasps, she stood up again, fists raised. He said nothing, bringing up his own arms in a defensive pattern, left arm extended forward with his right curled back, elbows bent at different angles. His left leg was leading.

She charged forward. He waited until she was just about to strike before spinning to the side, then raised his leg as she went rushing past and struck the small of her back with his shin. Kim stumbled, then fell.

Again she rose, and once again she rushed at him like an angry bull. Again he dodged out of the way, using her forward momentum against her to make her fall. It was a cycle that repeated itself several more times.

Anne watched them go at this for several minutes. She was no stranger to the world of organized fights. Her father had been a boxing fanatic, and growing up she would often sit next to him and watch two people beat each other senseless. During that time she had learned one thing that today's events had reminded her of: whenever two fighters were evenly matched, the resulting battle was either incredibly short, or incredibly long. They were hardly ever like this.

It almost seemed choreographed. Kim would charge, Ron would dodge and redirect her. Every so often they exchanged blows. There was little of the grappling and ineffectual punching that Anne had seen during those nights on the couch next to her father. There were no time-outs. It was like watching a dance.

Even after several rounds of this, Kim still hadn't adjusted her strategy. Anne knew her daughter was stubborn, but even though her mind was still developing, she rarely had trouble finding a way around simple problems. It occurred to Anne that Kim might be genuinely angry. It was difficult to blame her.

Her daughter launched a final charge at Ron, a savage howl tearing from her throat as frustrated tears ran down her reddened cheeks. Her left fist was held parallel with her side, aiming for his gut. He dashed to the right, gripping her forearm simultaneously. As she continued to move, he wrenched her arm around, lifting it high in the air at first, then bringing it down like the handle on a water pump. He twisted as he did so, and Kim flipped once, landing hard on her back.

Children and parents a like let out a collective gasp, and Anne heard Paul mutter, "I didn't teach him _that_…."

Ron walked calmly over to where Kim lay, literally breathless as the impact had forcibly ejected the air from her lungs, he extended a hand. "Nice try, KP. But I guess I'm better."

Kim didn't seem to agree.

Without warning, she started kicking repeatedly at Ron's shins, hammering at them until he fell, forward, on top of her. Her right fist came up, striking him in the temple. She rolled him over as she had with Bonnie, but this time there was no interruption. It wasn't until her fist finally connected with Ron's face that Anne thought to move. Another fist came down, and she started to rise.

A hand stopped her. She turned and saw Walter Nelson's father, shaking his head. "Let them work this out," he said.

Before she could voice her disagreement, she heard a cry. For the second time, she turned to find Kim lying on the floor. Ron wasn't standing still this time, however.

Grabbing her forcefully by the collar, Ron jerked Kim to her feet. He hesitated only a moment before returning the two blows she had landed against his face, and her head snapped back hard. Blood started to leak from her nose, staining the shirt of her Gi.

Ron shoved her back, spinning around as he came forward to plant a foot in her gut. Anne tried getting up again, but Mr. Nelson grabbed her by the shoulders. She wanted to turn around, but she couldn't take her eyes off the fight. She had to stop this. She couldn't bear seeing it any longer.

But she couldn't move, either.

Kim stumbled backward, near the edge of the ring. Paul was sitting down on the floor, knees drawn to his chest and trembling. He wasn't going to do anything. Her daughter started to fall.

Ron was there in an instant, grabbing her forcefully by the collar again and shoving his fist into her gut. This time the blood was not content to merely seep out, and was ejected violently from her mouth and onto Ron. Still holding on to her, he spun around and shoved her back the other way. Anne tried moving again, but Mr. Nelson wrapped his arms around her and held on tight.

She elbowed him in the gut, stomping down hard on his left foot at the same time. He howled and let her go, and she started running forward. Ron was already moving, however, and his foot landed squarely in Kim's belly before she could get close enough to stop it.

What happened next was physically impossible, at least according to everything Anne had seen up to that point in her life. Kim _flew_ back, narrowly missing the students who quickly moved out of the way. She hit the padded wall behind her, some five feet away from where Ron had kicked her. She fell forward then, and her skull impacted the barely hidden concrete with an audible crack.

The room exploded into motion, parents rushing to their children and dragging them out of the chaos that ensued. Anne found her way to Kim, rolling her over carefully to check if she was breathing. Fortunately, she was. She moved her fingers to check the girl's pulse.

And then Paul stood up.

"Oh my God!" he shouted, his accent completely gone. "What do I do? What do I do?! This has never happened before! What do I do?!"

Rachel let go of Ron, then walked calmly over to the hysterical Paul. She eyed him quizzically, her head tilted to one side.

"I'm just an aerobics instructor!" he continued to scream, panicking. "I learned everything I know about fighting by watching old Kung Fu movies! The ones with David Carradine! Before he learned real martial arts!"

"Paul…."

"I'm not even Asian! My father was from the Philippines!"

"Paul…."

"MY LAST NAME IS FLORES!"

"Paul!" Rachel slapped him across the face, eliciting a high-pitched squeak. He shrunk away from her, arms covering his face.

"Get a hold of yourself!" she continued, even as Ron wandered over to where Anne was still examining Kim. "There's an eight year old girl over there who's _unconscious_! You're lucky her mother's a doctor!"

He said nothing, though his lower lip began to quiver.

She pulled a phone out of her purse. "I'm going to call 911. I want you to lead the rest of these people out of here. The children don't need to see this."

Paul swallowed. "Yes ma'am," he squeaked.

"KP?"

Everybody turned to look at Ron, standing over the unconscious body of his best friend. Anne was still leaning over her, but moved aside enough for Ron to kneel down.

"I'm sorry, KP. I'm so sorry."

Rachel looked at the other children, then at their parents, and then at Paul. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Get them _out_ of here."

"Right!" he replied, moving past her. "Everybody, this way!"

She turned to Ron again, and started moving closer.

"I didn't mean to hurt you like that, KP. I'm sorry. I promise I'll never do it again."

When she reached him, she didn't grab him by the collar. She didn't slap him repeatedly as she wanted to do. She didn't even say a word. All she did was lay both hands on his shoulders, and looked at Kim.

"Never again."

* * *

Kim didn't wake up until she was already in the ambulance. Anne had asked to ride along with her, both as a doctor and as a mother. When her daughter began to stir, she tapped on the shoulder of one of the paramedics.

"Eddie, hand me a flashlight."

"Sure." The tall, dark-skinned man started rooting through several compartments before finding what he was after. "Here."

"Something a little smaller than a Mag-Lite, Eddie."

"Sorry." He blushed, and began digging around in his pockets. "I have this key-chain."

"Thank you." She snatched it from his hand, then turned back to her daughter. "Kimmie, can you hear me?"

The girl nodded. "Mommy?"

She sounded dazed. Almost drugged, even. Not good. "Can you open your eyes for me, sweetie?"

Kim did as she was told. Anne pressed down the button on the flashlight, then immediately released it when a red dot appeared on her daughter's pupil. She whipped her head around.

"I didn't ask you for a _laser pointer_, Eddie!"

The man held up his hands in the surrender position. "It's the other button. Below it."

Anne looked this time, testing it on the wall first. The light was blue. She turned to glare at him again.

"Hey, you wanted something smaller," he said, voice shaking. "What do you want me to do?"

She sighed, placing a hand to her forehead. "Sorry. Just a little stressed right now." She aimed the blue light at her daughter, and it told her the same thing the laser had.

"Her pupils are non-responsive," she announced sharply. "I think she might have…." What acronym were they using nowadays? She'd never cared enough to keep up.

"Might have what?"

"A concussion." Even though the term wasn't terribly accurate, Anne preferred using words that everybody could understand. She didn't get a kick out of lording her superior intelligence over others like some of her colleagues did. Proper medical terminology was for textbooks and charts. When she was talking to _people_, Anne preferred to speak in the vernacular.

"What did she hit her head on?" Eddie asked.

"Concrete. Cheap carpet doesn't make the best padding."

"You're sure?"

"Eddie, I'm a brain surgeon. I know my way around head injuries."

"But don't you want to—"

"Eddie, I _know_ the diagnostic procedure. I'm just making a _highly_ educated guess." She sighed. "Sorry, Eddie."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, no problem. And you don't have to say my name every time you talk to me. I'm not the one who got hit on the head."

She laughed, and relaxed a little. She turned back to Kim. "Honey, are you still awake?"

The girl nodded slowly.

Anne searched her brain for an obscure question that Kim would easily know the answer to. After a few moments, she found one. "Kimmie, what's your favorite Cuddle-Buddy?"

Her heart almost broke when she saw Kim blink her eyes, pupils still dilated and unmoving. After a few moments, she came up with an answer. "Pandaroo."

"Good, honey, that's very good." She started stroking Kim's hair, just above the girl's forehead. "What show do you always watch with your daddy?"

Kim took longer this time. "Captain Constellation," she said finally. "Rockets are go!" she added, pumping her little fist in the air.

Anne laughed.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Kimmie?"

"Are we gonna miss my Kung Fu class this morning?"

Anne blinked.

"I really wanted to show you all the cool moves I learned," Kim continued, oblivious to her mother's confusion.

"Kimmie…" Anne said slowly, removing her hand from her daughter's head, "What song were you singing in the car this morning?"

There was another pause, the longest one yet. Finally she answered, "I wasn't singing. I never sing."

Anne covered her face in her hands. Memory loss. It wasn't uncommon with head injuries. And Kimmie had received quite a severe one. Still she wasn't sad that her daughter didn't remember the events that had landed her here.

She was jealous.

"You did today," she answered gently, stroking Kim's head again. "Let me help you remember." She took a deep breath. "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine…."

Kim did not respond.

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine…."

Still no answer.

"Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…."

Finally, Kim responded. "Won't hide it under a bush, oh no, I'm gonna let it shine…."

Anne laughed, and tears gathered in her eyes. She joined in. "Won't hide it under a bush, oh no! I'm gonna let it shine! Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…."

They kept singing all the way to the hospital.

* * *

"Hey."

Anne turned around, leaving behind the sight of Kim and Ron playing checkers in the room. It was replaced by the image of her husband.

The image became real when she surged forward and hugged him, sniffling slightly. "Thank God you're here," she whispered.

"I came as soon as I heard," he said, one hand stroking her hair while the other held her tight against him. "Is Kimmie alright now?"

"She's recovering," she answered as they separated, wiping a sleeve over her eyes. "She got a pretty bad concussion. She's scheduled for an MRI later."

"What happened?"

Anne sighed. "You were right."

James blinked. "I was?"

"Yes."

"About what?"

"About Kimmie's class," she answered, reaching up to tuck her hair behind one ear as she turned around. James placed both hands on her shoulders. "She and Ron were sparring and…. I _know_ I should have done something. Said something. I should have prevented this."

James moved his arms to encircle her midsection, pulling her tight against him. "Honey, it wasn't your fault."

"But it _was_!" she insisted, pulling away from him. "I know I'm supposed to let Kimmie make her own mistakes so she can learn, but… I should have _stopped_ this!"

He turned her around with one hand, then moved to cradle her cheek with his palm. "Annie, what's wrong?"

She turned around again, and he let his hand drop. "Before she and Ron fought, Kimmie beat up Walter Nelson."

"Who?"

Anne faced him again. "The first boy she kissed. It happened a couple of months ago. Their braces locked together and Rachel drove them to the dentist. She was looking to pay him back for that."

"And did she?"

She looked down. "Yes. Yes, she did."

There was a long pause. "I see," he finally replied. "What does that have to do with her getting hurt, though?"

Anne didn't look at him. "After that happened, she fought Bonnie Rockwaller. Almost won before Bonnie's mother came and dragged her out of the class." She sighed. "Then she and Ron fought."

"Did she beat him up too?"

She looked up. "No. It completely surprised me. At first he just ran away from her. He avoided every attack she made." She looked down. "And then he started fighting back. He… hurt her."

James was quiet for several moments. "And that's what you wanted to stop?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I thought she _deserved_ it!" Anne suddenly shouted. "Because that wasn't my _daughter_ I was looking at! I figured she needed to have some sense knocked into her, to learn some humility, and what's more humiliating than getting beaten by _Ron Stoppable_?!"

She collapsed, and James caught her in his arms. Anne started crying into his shoulder.

"I'm a horrible mother," she muttered between sobs. "I shouldn't have let her get hurt. I shouldn't have signed her up for that dumb class."

"Anne." He said her name firmly. She looked up, not bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes. "You're a wonderful mother. I see the way you interact with Kimmie-cub every day. It's like she's _part_ of you. You knew exactly what to do when she got hurt. You made her better. If you had to show her a little tough love today, then I'm not going to question that, because I know you'd never let her get too hurt."

"James, she got a _concussion_. She lost some of her memory. How is that not 'too hurt?'"

He ran a hand through her hair. "Because you made it better."

She kissed him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They separated. "Can I go check on my daughter now?"

Anne laughed. "Yes. Try not to scold Ron too much. He feels really bad about what he did."

"I'll try," he said. Before he went through the door, he added, "You know, the Space Center has been experimenting with deep space probes. They're looking for test subjects."

"And?"

"Well, let's just say I could easily arrange for Ron to be on the next one."

She laughed. "I think Rachel would strap _you _to a rocket if you did that."

James laughed as well. Then he went into the room.

Anne turned away. There was something that had been bugging her ever since things slowed down enough for her to think. She saw something, back at the dojo. She went over it again and again in her mind. As a surgeon, she had been trained to never second-guess herself, to always go with her first instinct. She was sure of what she had seen. But it was impossible.

Right before his foot connected with Kim's body, the moment before she went sailing into a wall, Ron's eyes had flashed bright blue.

_End_

* * *

Author's note: Woo! My first new story in over a year! Some of you might be thinking that you've seen this before, and you're right. The original concept for this story appeared in the opening scene of Chapter 3 of _The Gift_. I've expanded it into a prequel that ties into the planned rewrite of that story, and sets up some of the principal conflicts.

Before anybody asks, yes, Paul Flores is an original character. I created him to fill the logic gap that I felt existed in the first incarnation of this concept, which was that a teacher would have to be pretty damn irresponsible to let something like this happen. So I designed him to be exactly that. I imagine him being voiced by James Hong, who was the VA for Po's "father" in _Kung Fu Panda_. He has such a wonderfully eccentric voice that I thought was perfect for Paul.

Special thanks to all the folks at KP Slash Haven for helping me research the concussion stuff (especially Lex). If I got anything wrong, feel free to tell me.

I'm not sure about the last scene. We didn't really see a serious side of James on the show, so I had trouble characterizing him here. I don't think I got him exactly right, but like I said, we never saw this on the show. I like to think that he comes through for Anne and supports her whenever she no longer has the strength, hence why he displays very few of his usual quirks here (aside from the space probe thing). He's kind of like Ron that way.

Thanks for reading!


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